


Hot Dog Economics

by carolinecrane



Category: Kitchen Confidential
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim likes to think he's worth more than a lousy hot dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Dog Economics

It takes Jim just under a day to get indignant enough about the whole hot dog thing to forget how he got himself into this mess in the first place. Afterward he thinks it might have been all the chemicals he inhaled while he was standing around the dry cleaner waiting to pick up Seth's clothes. And it's true that he left the dry cleaner's feeling a little light-headed, but he's not convinced it's enough to explain why he marched back to the kitchen and -- after carefully hanging Seth's clothes near the lockers -- straight downstairs to the dishwashers' break room.

As soon as they see him the dishwashers clear out, leaving Jim standing in the middle of the room with penciled on eyebrows and his hands on his hips, staring down at Ramon. "A hot dog? Really?"

Ramon shrugs, somehow managing to look menacing even when he's lounging on an old couch with his legs spread wide. "Guess I wasn't having fun no more."

"I'm fun," Jim argues, going for stern, but from the way Ramon smirks he guesses it sounds less scary than he'd hoped.

Ramon shifts on the couch and Jim tenses, but instead of standing up and pounding Jim, he just leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. From that angle Jim can see the flex of muscle in his biceps, and he does his best to ignore the weird little thrill that goes through him at the sight. His best is, unfortunately, not good enough, because the thrill keeps going straight to his groin. Jim's cheeks flush and he closes his eyes for a second, but he doesn't pray for strength. There was a time when he would have, but after a few months of working for Jack, even Jim knows God's not hanging around Nolita.

"You were fun," Ramon says, dragging the words out like he's really considering Jim's entertainment value. "Almost as pretty as that cute little hostess, with the makeup. But you got that little wuss to fight your battles for you, and you weren't so fun anymore."

It takes a few seconds for Jim to catch up with what Ramon's saying, because his brain got caught somewhere around the part where Ramon called him 'pretty'. He's drawing on his own eyebrows now, with an eyebrow pencil Tanya donated to the cause. She's better at getting the shape right than he is, but he draws them a little thicker than her, mostly because of Ramon's reaction the first time he saw Jim wearing makeup. The first time he did it he remembered the way Ramon looked at him, the way he said _I like that_ and _more_ , and he blushed as he told himself Ramon was just messing with him. Then he drew them thicker anyway.

Jim blushes again, reaching up to run a thumb over the spot where his real eyebrows used to be. They're going to take forever to grow back, according to Seth -- though he refuses to tell Jim how he knows -- and meanwhile nobody seems to want to make eye contact, so he's even more ignored in the kitchen than usual. But Ramon's looking at him, and he's got that same look in his eyes he had that time Jim knelt before him in front of the entire kitchen staff, and Jack jumped to all the wrong conclusions.

"That wasn't me," Jim hears himself say, voice cracking a little and his cheeks flush even deeper. "Jack said I shouldn't be anyone's bitch."

Ramon does stand up this time, taking a few steps forward until he's right in Jim's personal space. "Yeah? That why you're here? You liked being my bitch?"

"N-no," Jim stutters, doing his best to ignore the fact that he's half-hard just from the sound of Ramon saying the word 'bitch'. His mother was right about New York corrupting him, he thinks, nearly choking on a hysterical little giggle at the thought. "I just...I'm worth more than a hot dog."

Ramon shrugs and looms even closer, which is kind of a neat trick considering Jim's pretty sure he hasn't moved. "You offering to prove it?"

Up until this moment Jim thought Ramon was just trying to humiliate him. He asked Jim to set him up with Tanya, after all, and where Jim comes from, that means Ramon doesn't think about guys like that. Neither does Jim, if he can help it, but that's the whole problem with New York. There are a lot of things that are easier not to think about in Utah, but here...here he finds himself being bought and sold for a hot dog.

He yelps when a hand lands on his crotch, hot even through the fabric of his pants and his white cotton underwear. Jim's eyes flutter a little as Ramon's fingers trace the curve of his dick, the flat of his palm pressing down until Jim's completely hard. "You want me to stop, _bitch_? Or do you get off on people telling you what to do?"

"I...I'm not..." he stammers, willing his legs to move him backwards, out of the path of danger. But Ramon's hand is still moving, and it's hard to think straight when someone else is touching him for the first time.

"Not what? A little queer? You sure as hell got cock sucking lips," Ramon says, leaning close enough to breathe the words against Jim's mouth. "Tell me to stop."

"S-s-stop?" Jim manages, but it's more of a question than a command. The truth is that he does want Ramon to stop, because they're right out in the middle of the dishwashers' break room where anyone could walk in on them. At least when Steven drags somebody into the kitchen for sex he has the tact to use a room with a door on it, though Jim's gotten into the habit of walking into the meat cooler with his eyes closed until he's sure the coast is clear.

"Doesn't sound like you mean that," Ramon says, hand dipping a little lower to cup Jim's balls. He lets out a squeak that would make him blush if he wasn't already bright red, mouth open in an 'o' of surprise as Ramon's other hand reaches for the front of his shirt. A second later he's moving backwards, scrambling on tiptoes to try to keep his balance while there's a large hand clamped around his balls. His back hits the wall with a thud and he presses hard against it, trying and failing to squirm away from the hand on his crotch. Ramon's fingers are still fisted around the front of his shirt, but as soon as Jim hits the wall he drags his hand down Jim's chest to his waistband.

The button on his uniform pants pops open with practiced ease, and he spares his last coherent thought to wonder how many times Ramon's done this in the second before his zipper slides down. Ramon looks down at the hand still cupping Jim's balls, then he looks back up at Jim and twists just hard enough to make Jim wince. As soon as Jim's face registers the pain Ramon lets go, then his hand pushes inside Jim's underwear to drag his dick out.

"Jiminy," Jim breathes, closing his eyes to keep from coming on the spot. When he opens them again Ramon's just watching him, fingers still wrapped loosely around his dick. As soon as Jim opens his eyes Ramon lets go and holds his hand up to Jim's mouth. Then Jim's staring at Ramon's palm and Ramon's staring back at him, obviously waiting for something, but Jim has no idea what he wants. "W-what?"

"Lick it," Ramon says, smirking when Jim's eyes widen.

"No thank you?" Jim says, trying and failing to press back even further into the wall behind him. He's not sure _why_ Ramon wants Jim to lick him, but that hand's been on Jim's dick and he's pretty sure that's just not sanitary.

"I wasn't asking," Ramon says, palm pressing even closer and Jim feels his dick twitch as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to lick tentatively at the center of Ramon's hand. But he can't even do that right, because Ramon just rolls his eyes and licks his own palm, tongue flattening against the bottom of his hand and dragging all the way to the tips of his fingers. Another shiver rolls through Jim as he watches Ramon lick his own palm, then reach down to close a wet hand around Jim's dick again. And _now_ he gets it, because Ramon's hand felt pretty good before, but now that it's wet the slight burn of skin dragging against skin is gone, and he feels his hips pressing forward in spite of his efforts to keep them still.

"That's more like it," Ramon murmurs, and when Jim opens his eyes he finds Ramon watching Jim's dick slide through his fingers.

"We can't...I shouldn't..." Jim hears himself say, and he means it, because if anyone walks in he's going to get fired, and then he will have to go back to Utah. He reaches up to push Ramon away, but all he manages to do is close his fingers around Ramon's shoulders to flex against the sleeves of his tank top. And maybe he _should_ go back to Utah, because he'll never be a great chef there, but nothing like this would ever happen. Only he's not sure he can live without it, now that he knows what he's been missing all this time.

"Looks to me like you should," Ramon says, and when Jim opens his eyes to look at him, Ramon doesn't look quite as menacing as usual. Or maybe that's just the haze of lust fogging Jim's brain, and oh, he's going to Hell for this for sure. That's his last thought before he arches into the circle of Ramon's fist, chanting _ohgodohgodohgod_ over and over. Just a little blasphemy to add to his crimes, he thinks, not that it matters after this.

He's still panting when he hears someone else take God's name in vain, and Jim's eyes fly open in time to catch Seth staring open-mouthed at them. "Oh my God," Seth says again, mouth opening and closing and for some reason he can't seem to drag his eyes away from the sight of Ramon's hand on Jim's dick.

Then Ramon's hand is gone, and Jim comes to his senses enough to realize what's happening. He blushes all over again and scrambles to tuck himself back into his underwear, wiping sticky fingers on the sensible white cotton before he reaches for his zipper. He's still fumbling with it when Ramon reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a bill, then holds it out to Seth without taking his eyes off Jim.

"I'm buying him back."

"Hey, a deal's a deal," Seth says, still staring and Jim sort of wishes that whole eternal damnation thing could go ahead and start right now. "Besides, Jack'll kill me if he finds out."

"Ten bucks and I keep it out of the kitchen," Ramon offers, still holding out the money. After another second Seth reaches out and takes it, shoving it in his pocket before Ramon can change his mind.

"Fine, but you better keep it out of the building altogether," Seth warns. He shakes a finger at Ramon, then realizes what he's doing and snatches his hand back before he loses any fingers. "I mean, you know how Jack feels about fraternization."

"Deal."

Ramon holds out a hand to shake on it, but Seth just makes a face at him. "Forget it. I know where that thing's been."

Then he's gone again, and Jim's still fumbling with his zipper. Ramon turns back to him and rolls his eyes, pushing his hands out of the way and tugging his zipper up. When he's done he plants a hand on either side of Jim's face and leans in close, mouth barely an inch from Jim's and he feels his whole body shudder in anticipation of his first kiss. But Ramon just grins at him, all teeth from this close up, and Jim swallows a rush of fear. "I'll see you after closing."

It's more like a threat than a promise, Jim thinks, but he flushes all the same when he realizes he's nodding. Ramon smirks at him and starts to walk away, and Jim looks down to make sure he's buttoned before following him out of the break room. "Seriously, ten dollars? I'm worth more than ten dollars."


End file.
